Damage Control
by Haitch
Summary: One-shot, set between scenes in episode 105. The off-screen aftermath of a certain helicopter crash.


There could only have been a few seconds of blankness before the world snapped back into focus; the thick stench of smoke, an awful racket against his ringing ears, a glimpse of a starry sky at a strange angle. No, _he_ was the one at the strange angle – he sat up slowly, disoriented, surprised that his body would still obey him.

Immediately he had to push his sunglasses up to shield his eyes from the light of the blaze. The smoking wreck, only a few metres away, brought the night's events crashing back down on him with the same force as the helicopter. A surge of anger rushed through him, anger at Shiroyasha, at the Bakufu's dogs, at _himself_ for underestimating them and ultimately failing. But the feeling faded as quickly as it had come. Bansai adjusted his headphones, which played a quiet song as though they wished to help calm him.

It seemed he was the only one here now. Shiroyasha certainly hadn't stuck around, and there was no use in pursuing him. The battle had moved on: the Kiheitai had retreated and the Shinsengumi had won. He scowled at that thought.

He couldn't recall escaping the crash, but apparently he had done so. He'd dropped his katana, but his left hand still gripped his shamisen tightly. The instrument was in worse shape than he was, and even then it was only dented_._ He slung it over his shoulder again as he stood carefully, not expecting his legs to support him properly.

They did. Despite the dull aching in his head, he was perfectly steady. A little scraped up, perhaps, but compared to what he'd been expecting it was a miracle.

He brushed the dirt from his coat only to find, to his dismay, that a little brushing wouldn't get rid of the damage to it. It was doubtful that he would ever be wearing this one again.

There were bigger problems to focus on now. Before his mind could wander to the state of his hair, he focused on what he would have to do. His sword was easy to spot and he retrieved it, relieved to find it was still in one piece. He turned away from the mangled helicopter, wondering when – or _if_ – there would be someone arriving to pick him up. Surely he wouldn't have to _walk_ all the way back into town? Although, in that case he would have more time to think over what he was going to say. Takasugi would not be pleased no matter how he spun it. He supposed he could argue that bringing the Shinsengumi down hadn't _technically_ been the central objective…

"Bansai-sama!" An unsteady voice cut into his thoughts – he turned to see the gunner approaching. The man walked with a prominent limp, and he bled from a gash on his bald forehead. Bansai had almost forgotten that there were others involved in the crash, but now that he listened he could hear both of them clearly. So they weren't dead after all. Alive, fairly well, concerned, _completely incompetent_.

"Yes, Fujita-san?"

The man hesitated. "I was just—"

"Not apologizing, I'd hope."

"— glad you made it out all right. Satou-san and I didn't see you at first."

Bansai's voice was distant and cold. "You didn't seem to see the target you were meant to be shooting at, either."

"We're talking about a legendary war hero here. He was moving too fast! _You_ couldn't even defeat him…" The words cut off abruptly on a note of panic. "No, Bansai-sama, I didn't mean—"

The sword was faster than the eye could follow, run straight through the man's middle and pulled back out with a twist. Fujita collapsed, stifling a scream. Though there was no use in that — his song expressed it perfectly.

Bansai stared down at the gunner for a moment, a slightly curled lip the only change from his usual expression.

He was rather in the mood to listen to the man bleed to death, but it would only be appropriate to finish him off quickly. He brought the blade down again, and there was silence.

Or rather, there wasn't. The helicopter pilot, Satou, had stepped forward to join his co-worker just in time to watch this scene unfold.

Bansai showed no sign of emotion, merely an intense distaste as he turned his gaze upon him. The look of a man who had found a cockroach in his food.

The pilot shrank back, wide-eyed and quivering.

"You've done nothing wrong, Satou-san," Bansai said finally.

"I'm sorry, we've failed you…"

"No, you haven't. The both of you performed to the very best of your ability." There was a peaceful feeling to his voice, but not the slightest hint of warmth.

"If you say so…" Satou sounded relieved.

"_Which is nothing to be proud of._"

There was no gradual transition — in an instant, Bansai's calm demeanour bent and snapped. His cold gaze became an angry glare, the look of contempt a vicious snarl.

The pilot could say nothing, taking a stumbling step backward instead. Every hint of colour had left his face.

"Do you expect your life to be spared for not arguing? If you've anything at all to say, you'd best say it now. There's no use in saving your breath with so precious little left either way."

Not so much as a stammer.

"Very well, then."

He lunged at this man the same as the first, though almost as an afterthought he angled the sword upward, aiming for the heart.

It wasn't a clean blow; the pilot thrashed and gasped for air before finally sinking to the ground. So much fight for someone who had given up so easily. And weren't they always like that? No one wanted to die.

Bansai cleaned the blood off his sword with a piece of fabric cut from Satou's sleeve, the returned it to its place.

His headphones still played a soft, soothing melody.

His expression reverted to normal as he looked over the carnage. Two men slain, left in pools of their own blood, not by the enemy but by the whims of their superior.

He would be certain to mark them down as having died on impact.

Of course, killing them didn't make him feel any better. As the bloodlust faded, the world was still the same as ever. Beautiful and terrible and bright and noisy, with no reason to still be existing.

Those two men had had no more reason to exist, either. But Bansai did, and it was one he had to pursue until the end.

For he could, rather like his leader, only be satisfied when that world was no more.

* * *

**Author's notes**: Not much to say except that I'm back and more hardcore than ever. I apologize, I was distracted for quite some time, on the RP blog where I originally posted this piece. Yes, I've been RPing Bansai quite a bit (here: tamashii-no-kyoku dot tumblr dot com, why is this site so terrible about urls) over the last few months, and this is just one result of that. Also guess which fic I'm now finally working on again.


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